


The Lives of Others

by Emby_M



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Drabbles, I have no idea what to tag, Multi, Thanks to playingforpix for all the inspiration, The real tags are in the notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9696137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emby_M/pseuds/Emby_M
Summary: Little snippets for some NPCs and their interactions.Based off NPC dialogue, screenshots, letters, etc.Spans the main two games.[the ratings and tags will vary between each drabble]





	1. Belly Fulla Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Hatter (M) x Hatter (F)  
> Rating: T  
> Tags: Friends with benefits, affectionate name-calling  
> Based on: https://playingforpix.tumblr.com/post/156051578761/hatter-1-old-lady-grithers-lived-here-when-i-was  
> DH2, no spoilers.

“Stupid,” she chides, and he laughs, leaning onto his hand to get a look at her.

She’s really something, even stripped like this — maybe especially stripped like this.

She runs her fingers over his face gently, looking pissed but not really.

“How am I stupid? Didn’t even do anything.” He says.

“Iunno, stupid. You’re just stupid.”

“Wasn’t stupid when you came,” he says.

“Yeah well your stupid mouth is stupid good.”

“Okay, okay, stupid isn’t a word anymore.”

She lapses into silence.

“What are we?”

He kinda shrugs. “Anything, I guess. I’m open.”

“Cuz… I dunno. I kinda feel like we’re more than drinkin’ buddies.”

“Hm. Could be. Fuckin’ buddies?”

“Nah, more than- more than that, stupid.”

She grimaces a little.

“You’re _important_ to me, dipshit.”

He laughs and kisses her, and she relaxes into it, and he thinks, eh, maybe a belly fulla whiskey would be nice, but maybe a kiss from her was better.


	2. Looked Like Them Anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smuggler (Gen)  
> Rating: G  
> Tags: Found family, proving onesself  
> Based on: https://playingforpix.tumblr.com/post/153696756722/smugglers-just-chillin-looking-all-casual-like  
> (I think she looks like a buff lady, even if she isn't. Let me have this. My buff smuggler wife is my favorite.)  
> DH2, no spoilers.

Wasn’t hard to convince ‘em she could stand with the rest of ‘em.

Punched one guy out, and then there was no opposition to her joining up.

She kinda looked like them anyway, had that rough, Eastern Karnacan build, those thick shoulders, wide ribs, thin eyes. Fit in — she smoked like them, drank like them, was as tall. Could carry as much.

Somewhere along the way, when her hands get crusted thick with oil and grime, she finds that they all start liking her, offering her a “stray” cigar, letting her have the last nip from the bottle, joining her in punching out anyone who was chasing them - she couldn’t run that fast, but she could punch with all her weight behind it.

And slowly, they become dear to her.


	3. Somewhere I Can't Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darion x Windham  
> Rating: G  
> Tags: Post-Last Night Letter, religious angst, internalized homophobia  
> Based on: Last Night (http://dishonored.wikia.com/wiki/Last_Night)  
> DH1

“I’m sorry,” Windham says, tracing the line of the bruise forming on Darion’s face.

“S’fine,” Darion says, leaning in to kiss Windham’s thin cheek.

“It’s not fine,” Windham says, his voice quiet, breaking.

“S’okay. I’ve had worse. M’nose is broken, remember?”

Windham pouts.

“It was like being hit by a kitten. Wasn’t nothing.”

“I said- All those things.”

“You got my letter, didn’tcha? I said it was okay. I’d have preferred it to them branding you. Sendin’ you somewhere I can’t reach.”

Windham seems to be reminded of the cold truth. He flinches, eyes going wide.

“I’d forgotten. That that was what happened.”

Windham rests his elegant hands against Darion’s arms. _Shoulda been a noble,_ Darion thinks, every time he sees them, _certainly pretty like one._

“I had forgotten. Even though the words were easy. I forgot that I’m a deviant now too.”

Windham’s voice is so soft and quiet, and Darion- Darion’s a stupid man. He gets that. There’s a reason no one plucked him up to be an officer. But even he gets that Windham is afraid.

“Naw.”

“I must have given into the Outsider.” Windham presses a hand to his forehead, like he’s checking for fever.

“… s’that really how you feel? That you could only do this with me if the Outsider got to you?”

Darion doesn’t mean to sound that hurt, but something nags at him - that if this was just a perversion of what Windham “normally was”, then where did that leave him? A natural deviant. Actually in love with this silly, wonderfully human Overseer. Wanting to be with him. Retire to a cottage out on the seashore with him. Kiss him whenever and however long he wanted.

Windham recoils from Darion’s hold like he’s been slapped.

“Of- Of course not!” The look of pain is real on Windham’s gaunt face, “I’m just-“

Windham looks away, swallowing. “I’m scared. It’s the first time I’ve really wanted something against the strictures.”

Darion sighs. “S’okay.”

Windham falls back into his embrace, breathing deeply.

“Yeah.”


	4. The Clean Scent of His Wife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jilly & Peterson  
> Rating: G  
> Tags: Married couple, displacement  
> Based on: Guard Deserting (http://dishonored.wikia.com/wiki/Guard_Deserting)  
> DH2

“You made the right choice,” Jilly says, leaning on his shoulder.

He’s silent, watching the skyline of Dunwall slip away.

It feels strange now — their apartment left barren, except for his Watch uniform, left behind. It’s been years since he went out without some mark of his occupation, but now- now he was a deserter.

Everything was topsy-turvy.

But Jilly was with him. Weaver knew where he was.

He takes Jilly’s hand.

“Sorry I’m uprooting you.”

“Naw,” she says, smoothing her new skirt. In Poolwick, the fashion for women’s trousers hadn’t quite stuck.

“I’m glad you’re with me, though,” he says, laying his head on her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t leave you for all the silver in Karnaca.”

He smiles, a little, and breathes in the soft, clean scent of his wife, and things start to feel a little less disorienting, a little less helpless.

“I’ll go with you no matter where,” she murmurs, and pets his hair gently.


End file.
